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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27196813">The Broken Emperor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma'>CastielsCarma</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020 [25]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Death Threats, Face-Fucking, Gun Blowjob, Gun Violence, Gunplay, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Noncon gunplay, Threats of Violence, Vomiting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:00:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,577</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27196813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas wakes up to an empty bed at Camp Chitaqua. He thinks nothing of it. It was a long time ago that Dean brought the sun with him. </p><p>Then Dean comes back. And it was as if the sun was never there in the first place.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020 [25]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949407</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Broken Emperor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuzetteB/gifts">BabysNotaProp (SuzetteB)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my prompt for day 24 of Kinktober: Bondage, <b>gunplay</b>, or inflation.</p><p>The title can be read as what Dean is in season 15 of Spn, the image of the Emperor in the Tarot cards. The Dean in my story though is the twisted Emperor that failed. This one is dark! Read at your own risk (and please remember that I do love Dean and Cas lol).</p><p>Thank you to all lovely, who read and comment on my writing, I appreciate you so much. &lt;3</p><p><b>Warning!</b> This work contains gunplay. Dean uses a loaded gun with the finger on the trigger on Cas. This is dangerous and bad gun manners (and kink manners). The vast majority of kinksters recommend a fake gun when engaging in gunplay. Don't play with guns. Stay safe. </p><p>A huge thank you! (&lt;3) to BabysNotaProp for help with all the gun terms. I'm a noob and all eventual gun errors in this fic are mine.</p><p>If I forgot to tag something please let me know.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cas is not sure if it's morning yet but the bed is empty and the sheets are all crumpled up on Dean's side.</p><p> </p><p>He sighs deeply and gets up.</p><p> </p><p>The tent is the biggest one in the camp, befitting the leader and all and Cas should be grateful that he sleeps there. Being human is still overwhelming, and only because his grace trickled out of him slowly like the running insides from a rotten pumpkin.</p><p> </p><p>He walks over to a washbasin and stares at himself in the cloudy mirror that hangs above. His black hair is disheveled from sleep and he has a light stubble on his cheeks, otherwise, he looks just like before, when he was an angel.</p><p> </p><p>Insides twisting in anguish, a feeling that Cas has come to know all too well, he looks away.</p><p> </p><p>Cas thinks about making the bed, but what's the point? He ambles to the curtains that function as doors to their tent and peeks outside.</p><p> </p><p>Daylight and the soft rays of the sun bathe everything in a golden color. The trees are standing tall and proud and Cas thinks that maybe he can go into the woods and look for berries. He and the other camp-dwellers haven't had anything sweet for a week.</p><p> </p><p>Cas glances back at the table that stands in the corner. A blanket is tossed on top of it but Cas can still see the outline of the towering books. It's every lore book they could find and gather from every hunter they've ever met. Some of the books parted willingly from their owners, others were ripped away from cold hands. Still, Lucifer walks among them and Sam is lost.</p><p> </p><p>Cas blinks away the memories.</p><p> </p><p>No one ever told him the most persistent feeling of being human was hollow sadness. A light headache is already creeping upon him and the ache in his stomach he realizes is not only sadness and anguish but hunger.</p><p> </p><p>Walking back to the bed, Cas touches Dean's side. It's cold. That doesn't say anything about Dean's arrival. He can be gone all day and then return in the evening, bringing darkness with him or he can come in the middle of lunch, like a surprise rain that drenches everything and leaves people in a sour mood.</p><p> </p><p>Mostly him. Never other people.</p><p> </p><p>And the other camp-dwellers at Chitaqua have been well-practiced in avoiding Dean and Cas when Dean is in a mood. Which happens more often than not nowadays.</p><p> </p><p>Cas makes the bed with practiced motions.</p><p> </p><p>He grunts out as another wave of pain washes over his head. Cas licks his lips. He knows they have the pills, a stash of Advil, and other medicine but he doesn't want to touch that. His mild headache is not worth sacrificing the camp medicine for.</p><p> </p><p>Cas goes to a small cupboard instead where he has his clothes. Reaching all the way inside, he feels the edges of the round bottle. Just a sip and then he takes one of the so-called remedy balls that Rachel has made for him.</p><p> </p><p>The burn as Cas swallows is not pleasant but that isn't something new. Being human isn't pleasant.</p><p> </p><p>In a pocket in one of his discarded jackets, he grabs a ball of leaves. There are berries in there but they do little to dull the bitterness. Cas is grateful nonetheless that Rachel provides him with some.</p><p> </p><p>He sinks down to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>Cas traces his fingers over the soft carpet as he chews his ball. He swallows with a disgusted face. The berries he picks will go to Rachel.</p><p> </p><p>Closing his eyes, Cas waits for the remedy ball to kick in. Then he'll pull himself together and be useful. It's not that the headache is that bad yet but Cas wants to be proactive.</p><p> </p><p>With the pounding abated, Cas can function again. He'll look for food, prepare breakfast for Dean and himself. He and Chuck can take a vehicle and go up north. There have been rumors about a red-headed woman walking the woods. Cas doesn't know how she survived the Croats for that long alone but if she's human, she's worth rescuing. That he can do.</p><p> </p><p>He's just gonna rest first.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He <span>wakes up to Dean staring down at him. </span><span>His eyes are narrowed and his lips are set in an angry line.</span></p><p>“Look at you. Get up.”</p><p> </p><p>The headache is gone but Cas' stomach twists. It's a mingling of fear and sorrow but he can't distinguish which is what.</p><p> </p><p>Dean's boot in his stomach makes him cough out in surprise. “I said, 'get the fuck up'.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pain blooms in his stomach and Cas wants to laugh. He abated one pain, only to be dealt a different one. Dean says that all the time, that being human is being in pain, being miserable, </span>
  <span>
    <em>failing. </em>
  </span>
  <span>He's still disoriented from sleep but he doesn't have time to think or act. Dean doesn't give him time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>A hand yanks hard at his shirt and pulls him up. “Are you fucking high?”</p><p> </p><p>Cas shakes his head. He wants to tell Dean that no, of course, he isn't. He just needed to dull the headache, dull the pain and then he'd be himself again.</p><p> </p><p>“No... I was going to make us breakfast,” Cas says with a raspy voice.</p><p> </p><p>Dean lets him go, a disgusted look on his face, but Cas hones in on the anger instead. Dean's always angry nowadays. It's like they have a symbiotic yet opposite relationship, Dean's anger, and Cas' grace. The slow flow of Cas' grace leaving him pulls at Dean's anger. Everything that makes Cas human shapes and sharpens it until his anger cuts all tethers to Cas' soul, leaving him numb.</p><p> </p><p>Is he still human if his soul withers?</p><p> </p><p>Dean's voice is smooth now. “Seems like you already had breakfast.”</p><p> </p><p>Cas remains silent. There's no use in talking to Dean when he's like this. Cas shoves down the thought, that those instances come more and more often.</p><p> </p><p>If Cas was once Dean's shield, now he carries anger with him like a hammer. And Dean knows how to swing it.</p><p> </p><p>“Answer me.”</p><p> </p><p>Cas licks his lips. “I had a headache.”</p><p> </p><p>Dean's lips curl in distaste. “A fucking headache. You can't tolerate a headache. Seems grace was not the only thing that left you.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something has happened. Humans were complicated when he was an angel, and him being one himself now hasn't brought him much clarity in the inner workings but he </span>
  <span>
    <em>knows </em>
  </span>
  <span>Dean – he shuts down the voice that tells him this isn't his Dean anymore – and something has happened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>“Dean, what's wrong? Please, I can help you...”</p><p> </p><p>That was the wrong thing to say.</p><p> </p><p>Pain explodes on Cas' cheek and he gasps. It's more from the shock than from the actual pain.</p><p> </p><p>“Now you can help? Where were you when Matthews died? Or when we got ambushed back at Porten?” Dean's still whispering but the harsh words etch into his heart nonetheless.”You mean help like you did when Jack bleed out on the floor in a goddamn warehouse?”</p><p> </p><p>A flame of anger still burns in his heart at hearing Dean's words, at the <em>injustice</em> of it all.</p><p> </p><p>“That was not my fault! I was not there alone. Other camp-settlers were there, Adam and Benny were there. Benny is the camp medic!”</p><p> </p><p>“You were an angel, you were supposed to fucking<em> heal</em> him!”</p><p> </p><p>Cas' eyes widen in shock, not at the words but at how Dean sounds. Anger coats every word and when he dares look at his eyes, just for a brief blessed moment, Cas thinks he sees pain there. Then Dean shuts down again.</p><p> </p><p>How ironic that when Cas gained his humanity, Dean lost his.</p><p> </p><p>“And where were <em>you</em> when he died?” It's just a whisper and Cas regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Dean pulls out his gun and Cas freezes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A heavy rock sits in his throat and Cas has his eyes locked down the barrel that Dean points straight at him.</span>
  
</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck did you say?”</p><p> </p><p>Dean presses the barrel in Cas' chest so hard that he's certain there will be a bruising mark there tomorrow. Dean pushes the gun further, leaving Cas no other option than to kneel.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Dean</em>...” There's a small part that whispers that Dean would never do this, that forces Cas to remember all the good times they had together but it's overridden by the stark reality of now.</p><p> </p><p>“You <em>dare </em>say that to me? You don't do shit for this camp, Cas. Every thing, every life in this camp hinges on things going smoothly, like a well-oiled machine. You're the gravel that causes the gears to get stuck. When was the last time you helped someone besides yourself?”</p><p> </p><p>Cas can barely hear what Dean says. All he knows is that Dean points a gun at him. Cas knows he's human, and as such, he's fully aware he'll die one day. He can't comprehend, can't believe that it will be by Dean's hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing to say?”</p><p> </p><p>Cas grimaces as Dean pushes the gun into his chest hard, but remains silent.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, lucky day for you Cas. Now is your chance to prove to me that you're helpful.” Dean's eyes are dark and he's a living, breathing entity of fury.</p><p> </p><p>Cas is confused at Dean's words until Dean lowers his gun only to fumble with his belt buckle. With practiced movements, Dean pulls down the zipper on his pants and pulls down his underwear. He takes out his cock.</p><p> </p><p>Morning is upon them but Cas feels the chill of night as he looks at Dean. This can't be happening.</p><p> </p><p>“You know what to do.” Dean's words are a whip, lashing away every soft thought Cas had about him.</p><p> </p><p>Still, Cas hopes that there is <em>something </em>of that brilliant light left in Dean, the one he saw when he first rescued him. He hopes that there is still some piece of the righteous man in there.</p><p> </p><p>Cas stands still, frozen between hope and fear.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean presses the cold steel slide softly across Cas' cheek It's a mockery of a lover's caress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>Cas doesn't move. He prays to a God that stopped caring a long time ago that someone will come inside, yet he's scared senseless of what will happen if someone really does disturb them.</p><p> </p><p>The muzzle of the gun pushes against Cas' lips. Dean's finger is still on the trigger. “Open up.”</p><p> </p><p>Cas' eyes are locked onto Dean's, praying that he'll stop but he's afraid that if he utters a single word, he won't stop screaming. He opens up slowly and Dean pushes the muzzle just inside Cas' mouth and holds it there.</p><p> </p><p>Cas swallows against the cold steel. Although he's trying to remain calm and rational, his body is all primitive impulses. Sweat makes his tunic cling to his back and his pulse roars inside his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Good boy.”</p><p> </p><p>Dean pulls out the gun and for just a split second Cas is relieved – this means it's over – before Dean pushes it back in again, deeper. The barrel goes down his throat and Cas doesn't have time to think about how terrified he is. He' tries not to retch; he doesn't want to die suffocating on his own vomit. He hopes that Dean would remove the gun if that happens but he's not certain of anything any longer.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, Dean pulls out the gun.</p><p> </p><p>Cas bends over and his fingers flex against the carpet as he heaves and gags. His reprieve is short-lived.</p><p> </p><p>Dean's fingers curl around his hair, close to his scalp and he pulls Cas back up on his knees.</p><p> </p><p>“We're not finished,” he hisses.</p><p> </p><p>He presses the muzzle against Cas' forehead. “Now. Either you blow me, or I'll blow you. <em>Away</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Cas exhales harshly and opens his mouth when Dean presses his cock against his lips. His head is already slick with pre-cum and Dean wastes no time. He grabs Cas by the hair and holds him still with one hand as his hips start thrusting inside his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>The muzzle slides to the side and Cas can still feel it press against his skull.</p><p> </p><p>“There you go. Some warm cock to heat you up after that cold steel. Aren't you <em>grateful</em> that I find you so helpful? Maybe I finally found some use for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Cas doesn't know which is worse; the taste of cold steel from the gun or the bitter taste of Dean's cock. He grabs Dean's thighs for purchase as Dean fucks his face. Because it <em>is</em> a fucking. There is nothing gentle or soft about it.</p><p> </p><p>Dean slows down only to press Cas' face against his groin.</p><p> </p><p>Tears cloud Cas' vision. He can't get any air. There is nothing to inhale and nothing to exhale. There is only this cursed – unholy – moment of now.</p><p> </p><p>He pushes back but Dean presses the muzzle of the gun harder against his head. “No, you don't.”</p><p> </p><p>Cas stops immediately and tries to relax, even though every instinct in his body shouts at him to fight.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, just like that.” Dean's voice purrs in approval.</p><p> </p><p>When Cas' lungs scream for air and his body burns – surely this must be hell – and he thinks that this is how he dies, choking to death on Dean's cock, Dean lets up.</p><p> </p><p>Cas takes a breath of air before he's pushed back on Dean's cock again.</p><p> </p><p>Back and forth they go, in this twisted dance until Dean finally holds him still, his cock lodged deep inside his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Dean's voice pulls Cas back to reality. “Fuck, yes, yes. Oh, God.”</p><p> </p><p>There is no God, Cas thinks and if there is one, he doesn't give a damn.</p><p> </p><p>He can feel Dean's cock twitch against his sore throat and then cum coats the inside of his mouth and tongue. Cas recoils against the acrid taste but Dean is as always there, grounding him and keeping him still.</p><p> </p><p>Cas swallows down all his horror and pain and all of Dean's cum.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, Dean pulls away and the gun is lifted. “Fuck, Cas, that was amazing. We should do it again sometimes. What do you say?”</p><p> </p><p>Dean still sounds angry but Cas can't see him. His eyes burn and he blinks away the tears. Cum and saliva and fear mix in his gut. It churns and swirls and while Cas can't purify his soul – that hope died a long time ago – he can at least purify his body.</p><p> </p><p>With a groan, Cas' stomach spasms and he pukes on the carpet.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, Cas!” Dean takes a step back.</p><p> </p><p>Cas pants as his muscles continue to cramp around emptiness. The sharp smell of vomit stings in his nose and his eyes burn from all the crying.</p><p> </p><p>Dean bends down, carefully avoiding the pool of puke – and grabs Cas by the hair. “Not what I expected you to say. You can't even take a fucking.”</p><p> </p><p>Cas doesn't move.</p><p> </p><p>A bright light shines on Cas' face and he looks up towards the tent flaps. There Dean stands with the sun at his back. It surrounds him like an earthly halo. At that moment, Dean looks like an angel.</p><p> </p><p>“You said you were hungry.” Dean points at the vomit. “There's your breakfast.”</p><p> </p><p>The sun leaves and the tent is cast in darkness.</p><p> </p><p>Cas rolls over to the side and allows numbness to finally wash over him.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe it will grant him sleep.</p>
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